What Friends Are For
by superfan24
Summary: Goyle does some thinking about his life while serving a detention. Set during Prisoner of Azkaban. Written for the Missing Moments Lottery Challenge.


A/N: Right, this is something COMPLETELY different for me. And I had a lot of fun with it, actually. This was written for the Missing Moments Lottery Challenge, in which I picked a number for a character, a time frame, and a Bonus Writer's Round basically got to write a moment that JKR left out of the story, based on those restrictions.

My time frame: Prisoner of Azkaban

My character: Gregory Goyle

My Bonus Writer's Round: interior monologue

So with that all being said, this is set a few days after Malfoy and the guys try to trick Harry that they are dementors at the Quidditch match.

Big thanks to _TenderHooligan _for beta-ing for me. Everyone should check out his story _Closer_that I'm beta-ing for if you're interested in R/Hr pairings. Alright, enough of my jabbering here... enjoy. And please leave a review. It'd be super helpful as I've never written Goyle before. I'd love to know what everyone thinks! 

At the time, the whole thing had seemed hilarious. And simple: Potter was terrified of the stupid, bloody dementors, and it would be so easy to make him lose the match in front of the entire school. Of course, when Malfoy had come up with the plan, he hadn't planned on Potter actually putting up any defense, and he hadn't really thought of how to get away from the crowd without being spotted after the actual scare. Goyle hadn't really thought of that either, though, as thinking wasn't generally his selling point. Usually, Malfoy said jump, and Goyle did. So they'd acted as dementors. And then they got caught.

_Look where it gets me now, _Goyle thought bitterly as he scrubbed with a toothbrush in the toilet bowl of a bathroom on the fifth floor, _another detention cleaning without magic. _Goyle had to admit to himself that the use of magic wouldn't have really been helpful anyways, as he'd never bothered to learn… much of any magic, let alone ones to aid in household cleaning. Hexes and curses were far more interesting, and if Goyle was interested and the outcome was causing someone else fear or pain, he had a better chance of remembering it.

He sat back from the toilet he was scrubbing with a sigh, setting the toothbrush down on the cold stone floor. His detentions were always the same; no teacher wanted Goyle doing much of anything for them by means of punishment. His lack of scholarly skills was widely known, as was his habit of half ass-ing any actual task set before him. He gave the toilet a kick in anger as he thought of Malfoy, sitting in Snape's dungeon classroom at that very moment, writing a few lines before he'd be dismissed for the night.

_Bloody git never has to do anything for himself_, Goyle grumbled silently a he rubbed his foot, which ached now from his assault on the toilet. Bruises weren't new to Goyle, especially ones acquired thanks to Malfoy, but he was still irritated at the inanimate object as if it had fought him back and he'd lost.

It was true, though, that Malfoy led a cushy existence, at least by Goyle's standards. He hardly ever got detention, though when he did, it was served under Snape. It had been since that Forbidden Forest fiasco in first year, anyways. School came relatively easy to him as well. An essay that would take Goyle three weeks to write, Malfoy could scratch out in an hour. Malfoy always got to call the shots, and Goyle was always the bullet after that shot was fired. Though, to be fair, Goyle even shared in that responsibility with Crabbe.

He thought of Crabbe, then, sitting in a lavatory a few stories above himself, scrubbing away at a toilet much like the one Goyle had just attacked. When all else failed, and it usually did, at least he always had Crabbe. He and Crabbe were friends in a way Malfoy could never truly be a friend to either of them; you had to have at least a little respect for people you called your friends. The way Malfoy ordered he and Crabbe around could be grating at times, especially when all Goyle or Crabbe wanted to do was get some pudding from the kitchens and take a kip.

And then there was his home life. Malfoy was practically a prince in comparison to the way Goyle was treated at home. Abusive father, distant mother… Never a letter from home, never a care package full of cakes or treats. It was as if he didn't exist to them while he was away at school. _At least Malfoy pays me a bit of attention_, he thought miserably as he quickly picked back up the toothbrush to get back to work upon hearing the bathroom door open.

"Mr. Goyle? How are you coming along in here?" asked the voice of Professor McGonagall as she walked briskly to the stall Goyle was crouched in front of. "On the last one, I see. And it only took you three hours."

"Yeah, yeah, it's coming along," he replied tiredly, scrubbing half-heartedly at the toilet. McGonagall gave him a stern look at his flippant tone, which he studiously ignored by pretending to be absorbed in his work. He didn't really want to push her, but he was past his point of attention and patience.

"We both know how you keep winding up in these situations, I think," she said, as if she'd been reading his mind for the past twenty minutes. "You may not apply yourself in my class, but I know you're smarter than that stunt you pulled at the Quidditch Match the other day."

"You do?" he asked, standing up and blinking in surprise as she vanished the toothbrush out of his hand.

"I know it was Mr. Malfoy who put you up to it, and his… rivalry… with Mr. Potter is only going to get you into more trouble down the road, you can mark my words."

Goyle had nothing to say to that, and gave a small shrug while averting his eyes to his shoes. _She always tries to be so bloody nice,_ he thought miserably. _As if I need a filthy muggle- loving blood traitor to pity me._

"Can I go now?" he asked. "The toilets are done. I'm done."

McGonagall said nothing for a moment, just looked at him sadly which irritated him even more. As if she was sorry he had such a rotten hand in life, as if she thought he could be something more than what he was. She was always going on about his potential, about applying himself, or some such rubbish.

"Yes, Mr. Goyle. You are free to go."

With that he rushed past her, and escaped her gaze in the corridor. He was nearly back to the Slytherin common room when a blond head rounded a corner and halted his journey.

"Goyle! It's about bloody time. I thought you were going to be in detention forever!" Malfoy exclaimed with a sneer on his face. _He always looks like he's smelled something rotten,_ Goyle thought to himself, and stifled a smile.

"Just finished," Goyle answered, falling into step slightly behind the shorter boy.

"Good, I've a job for you. Nasty little Ravenclaw third year needs a lesson taught about respecting his superiors. Michael Corner. Take care of it," said Malfoy as they reached the common room. Goyle just grunted a response and turned back the way they'd come up the hall.

It was only days later, when Goyle was serving a detention for hexing Michael Corner in the corridors that he wondered why he hadn't just ignored Malfoy and gone to the common room to wait for Crabbe's return from his own detention.

_Look where it gets me now_, he thought bitterly.


End file.
